


The Tail Of A Fluffy Hero Volume 1: A Tainted Khajiit

by Opheliasfantasylife



Series: Tales Of  A Fluffy Adventurer [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2019-11-14 16:01:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18055589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opheliasfantasylife/pseuds/Opheliasfantasylife
Summary: Kiz'ajra is a khajiit like no other, destined for greatness. She has been given many names, fluffy one, the sweetroll bandit, dragonborn, archmage, hero... killer, monster, traitor.Her life as the dragonborn has come to an end, most of her dear friends have died as the ages have gone by. As she bids goodbye to her dear jester friend, now she is alone. What will the dragonborn do now? Well adventure of course! Summoned by Parthunax to travel to a new land where a elder scroll has become tainted by something sinister, she is to find any dragons of this land and tell them of Adluins bane, to find the elder scroll and play fates hand  in events that will change this new world.This is the story of Kiz'arja, the dragonborn in Thedas. Volume 1.





	1. A Final Farewell

Dawn was breaking over the moutians, the soft veil of snow shinning ever so slightly. Near a heavy door, where death and secrets laid behind, a single person stood. Her tail swaying slowlly and her ears flattened in sorrow. Surrounding the khajiit were many stones, writing etched into the slabs. As the khajiit kneeled down to the newest of graves, she let out a quiet whimper. She filled the grave with dismay and errected the newest stone, in her hand the slight ringing of bells came from a jester hat she held so tightly.

The khajiit sat besides the graves, wondering how long had it been. How long had she been living this cursed life? After returning from Soverngarde once she had defeated the over grown lizard, she returned to the life of a assassin and thief. As time had went on, she had found that as her friends and family aged, she did not. Kiz'arja had searched all over for answers, became the arch mage of the college of Winterhold in her search. Countless dwemmer ruins were searched, mages, scholars and the like were hunted down. Yet no one had an answer for her, not even Parthunax.

Now Kiz'arja was the last one, the last assassin of the Dark brotherhood. They had been her shelter for the years, accepting her for all her flaws and not putting pressure on her as the dragonborn. Now her closest friend, the light and laughter of her life had also stepped in the void. The khajiit was unsure how long she sat there for but the loud roar of a dragon echoed in the mountains, a dark shadow covering any light that was shinning on her. The dragon landed before her, its fangs baring down in an attempt of a smile. Kiz'arja had grown used to dragons seeking her out, either to test their strength or to speak with her. One had hired her as an assassin to kill another dragon that had stolen their mountain. She got a wonderful shout and spell as a reward... it involved sweetrolls.

"Dovakiin, Parthunax has sent me to collect you", the dragon spoke, causing the khajiits black fur to vibrate.

"What does the old man want with this one?", Kiz'arja questioned as she gotten to her feet.

The dragons tail swayed from side to side, causing the water behind him to splash. "He has news for you, I shall allow you to sore in the sky with me".

The khajiit stretched out, looking at her large sack that leaned against the heavy door. She had packed it after Cicero passed, planning to head home to Elsweyr. It was a magical pack, enchanted to hold an insane amount of sweetrolls and all her less important things. Shrugging, she shrugged it on her shoulders, placing her hood and mask on. The idea of swallowing flies like the last time she was on a dragons back was enough to wear the mask.

"Then take Kiz'arja to Pathunax, this one has nothing left here now", the black khajiit sighed as she climbed onto the dragons back. With one final look at the graves, she cast an illusion spell to hide the sanctuary door as they took off in the air.

For most, the chill of the sky air would be enough to cause many to have frost covered skin. For the khajiit dragonborn however, it was a wonderful wind. The hum of wind rushing in her ears, air rustling her fur and the roaring of the dragon, it all set her soul on fire. Soon the rising mountain of the throat of the world came closer. The dragon landed and Kiz'arja jumped off. Her blue eyes scanning around the snow covered mountain top. Parthunax sat proudly near his word wall, his eyes following the khajiit.

"It has been quite some time Dovakiin. Time has yet to affect you it would seem. Whilst it may seem that your fate has ended, it has only reached a new turn", the old dragon spoke, the sense of kin causing Kiz'arja to smile a little under her mask.

"What would you ask of this one?"

"A elder scroll has been... changed. Akatosh himself has asked of you, your destiny lies elsewhere", Parthunax explained.

Kiz'arja was confused to say the least, had her destiny not been fufilled twice over? She defeated Alduin, became the listener. Stolen all sweetrolls she came across and presented the emperor with a box of dragon dung. "Kiz'arja does not understand? She was returning home to Elsweyr as it was", the khajiit tilted her head.

Parthunax let out a deep chuckle, the fuzzy little being had always brought a sense of joy to the old dragon. "Alas, not to the land of sands and forests little dov. No I mean to another world that exsists close to our own. Beyond the moons and the void, there is another. Thedas. I ask this of you Dovakiin. Travel to this new world, find the elder scroll. But also any of our kin, spread the words of Alduins bane and perhaps the way of the voice".

The khajiit frowned a little, she just wanted to return home. However, the idea of a new world was pulling at her adventurers soul. Her tail swayed before she shrugged. "This one has nowhere else to go. Kiz'arja shall do as you say".

"Very well, step into the time wound and I shall teach you two new shouts. The first will allow you to travel to Thedas and the second is for whenever you desire to return. You can only use the return one once however, so pick your timing well Dovakiin", Parthunax taught the dragonborn the new shouts and she looked at him with a nod.

Rain began to fall on the throat of the world as Kiz'arja took a deep breathe. She placed her hand on the jester hat that she had tied to her waist, trying to remind herself that Cicero was still her in spirit. The khajiit dressed herself in her nightengale armour, her body completely covered. She was the biggest fan of the mask, mainly because it had been made to fit a humans face so she had altered it to fit and made space for her ears. The blade of woe nestled on her hip, the only physical weapon she carried on her person instead of her sack. Kiz'arja was more comfortable with her poisons and magic. She wondered what magic would be like in this new world.

With one final look at Parthunax, Kiz'arja shouted her teleport of Thedas shout and felt the world fade away.

It a strange sensation for Kiz'arja, soft tingle of magic against her fur. Everything was spinning, the sound of rain tugging at her senses. Finally the khajiit opened her eyes, the first thing she confimred was that she was not in Nirn anymore. The smell alone was different. Darker even. The feel of magic seemed strained, almost as if something was blocking it out. She slowly got to her feet and looked around, the only sign of people was the rising smoke in the distance.

And so Kiz'arja took off in the direction of the smoke, unaware of what awaited her and the lack of sweetrolls in this land.


	2. Wardens, taint and a cat... oh my?

South of the Hinterlands, lays the Korcari wilds. Within the wilds, darkspawn were rising, readying for an attack. The grey warden commander, Duncan had been returning to Ostagar with his new recruit, a dwarven man by the name of Galum when they decided to make camp for the night. It was late night when the commander heard it, the echoes of darkspawn so close their camp. He tapped on Galums shoulder and motioned to the noise.

The men drew their weapons and awaited the darkspawn, however instead a flurry of wind came their way. "FUS RO DA!", a strange noise came again, and the men were sent flying back.

Duncan got to his feet, his eyes landing on Galum who had hit his head against a tree, rendering him unconcious. The grey warden turned to the darkspawn, wondering which one was able to cast such a frightening spell. Instead he found something else, a cloaked woman was fighting the remaining darkspawn. Lightning flew from her hands with ease, then she cast a spell that summoned two blades. The strange woman seemed to dance almost, her body bending and cutting at each of the darkspawn.

He sensed an emissary coming behind her, quickly picking himself up. Duncan joined the woman in battle, he was surprised how quickly she picked up on his way of fighting and adjusted herself so they would fight better together. As the emissary cast a large firebolt towards the pair, the woman grabbed the warden and cast a ward. The firebolt bounced off the ward and faded. Duncan took this chance to attack the mage darkspawn. He took a step and heard a strange hiss come from the woman. He slashed the head from the darkspawn before turning to her.

"Sheos balls that hurt", the woman spoke to herself as she grabbed her... tail.

Duncan tilted his head and looked at the tail that was clearly connected to the woman. A closer look and he saw the point of ears under her hood. He rubbed the back of his neck as he coughed. "Erm, hm... I thank you for the help. May I ask who you are?".

"This one is called Kiz'arja", the woman spoke. Duncan was truly curious about this stranger.

"I am Duncan", he responded as he turned to Galum.

The dwarf was awake but in great pain. Kiz'arja saw this and moved passed Duncan and kneeled down. Her hands hovered over his recruit and a soft hum surrounded them. A golden glow flowed from the strange woman and into Galum, healing all of the dwarves wounds. She then turned to Duncan and continued to cast her spell. The warden felt warmth spread through his body and the aches of the long travels fade.

"I thank you once more, so you are a mage Lady Kiz'arja?", Duncan asked.

"Just Kiz'arja, this one many things, a mage is just one of those", she shrugged.

Galum got to his feet and looked up at the woman. "Nug shit, what are you lass? Tits, tail and ears? Are you some kind of demon?", the dwarf asked. Duncan frowned at the exiled princes manors but the woman just laughed and removed her mask.

The two men stared at her gaping. "Um Duncan, the lass is a cat...".

"I can see that Galum".

The men recieved a claw to their faces as Kiz'arja hissed. "This one is a khajiit, not a cat. Kiz'arja does not say meow", she hissed.

"I, uh...", Duncan rubbed his cheek and looked at the woman. "What is a khajiit?", he asked her. Kiz'arja truly looked surprised at this question.

"This one sees that Khajiit are not known here. This one is from far away, a different land. Khajiit are just khajiit", she explained.

Duncan was aware of lands beyond the known world, beyond Seheron there must be more. This Khajiit seemed proof enough. Before he could say anything else, the khajiit woman let out a pained cry. He rushed to her side before she hit the ground. Galum noted a cut along her side, seeping through the strange leather armour. The grey warden could sense it, the taint.

"She seems to have been injured in the battle", Galum stated.

"This one... cannot heal this wound. She does not understand", Kiz'arja hissed in pain.

"I am sorry. These creatures are called darkspawn, they have tainted blood and it seems some of their blood got into your system. There is no way to stop the taint, well no way to proper rid of it", the warden frowned.

"Then this one may finally die. Pitiful. Kiz'arja came here to find new adventure... she has nothing or no one left at home now", she sighed.

Galum looked up at Duncan, he respected the human truly and knew from the look in the wardens eyes that this strange woman may become a companion of his.

"I have seen you fight, you have power that the wardens could use. You are also a healer, a skill that is far and few between. I have a way that we may be able to stop the blight in your blood. If it fails, you will die anyways. Take this offer and there is a chance you could live. Join the grey wardens", Duncan stated.

Kiz'arja could feel her blood darkening within her. She had made a promise to Parthunax, one she intended on keeping. "This one made a promise to a friend. This must live so... Kiz'arja accepts", she groaned.

Duncan nodded and picked the woman up. He pulled her mask back over her, knowing if any templar was to see her they would call her an abomination. He beckoned for Galum to follow and the two men headed towards Ostagar. Hoping that he would make it in time.

They were still another hour away from the encampment when Duncan sensed it, a blighted ogre. These monsters were stronger than the typical darkspawn, their overwhelming size and strength making it hard for even one grey warden to kill. He placed Kiz'arja by a nearby stump and looked over at Galum. The warden nodded at the dwarf, signalling to draw his sword. They began their attack, hoping to surprise the ogre.

Kiz'arja stirred, her body aching worse than the first time she decided to quit skooma. She was still unaware on exactly what was going on, only that once again she had been thrust right into the chaos of Sheos asscrack and expected to just deal with it. She tried to ignore the ringing in her ears as she focused on the sight before her. The two men were fighting a strange looking giant. She watched as the smaller man came flying at her, his foot catching her arm.

"By the stone, that hurt my bloody stones", Galum groaned as he shifted awkwardly. He got a proper stand but couldn't seem to find his sword. "Sod it, where has my sword went".

Meanwhile Duncan was fighting with the ogre, calling out for the dwarf to give him a hand.

"This.. this one can give you a sword", the khajiit spoke to Galum.

"I doubt that kitty, it doesn't look like you have any two handed weapons on you", Galum sighed.

Kiz'arja let out a chuckle and placed her hand into her sack. The dwarf gaped as she pulled a large two handed sword from her sack. It was back and red, the red seemed to move around as if it was blood. The khajiit handed the dwarf her deadric sword with a grin. "This one has many weapons. Kiz'arja hopes this works".

Galum took the blade, still wondering what was up with the big cat. The sword was heavy but well balanced. He charged back into battle, slashing at the ogre. Kiz'arja hissed in pain as she tried to get to her feet, wanting to help the men. She took a deep breathe and focused on the pair. "MID VUR SHAAN!"

The men felt their bodies grow lighter, their movements became faster. Kiz'arja pushed herself up, casting a healing spell on herself. The pain faded slightly, just enough for her to stand. She gathered her mana and cast out a fire spell to the ogre. The beast turned to her and roared, its focus now on her. The khajiit smiled at the warden and dwarf as the ogre charged at her.

"Kitty look out!", Galum called out as the ogre raised its arm at the khajiit.

"FEIM ZII GRON!", Kiz'arja became see through, the ogres arm passing right through her.

With its back to the men and a ghost cat, Galum waved his fancy sword in air and lunging it into one of the darkspawns legs. Duncan jumped up and lunged one of his swords into the ogres heart. The monster gave out a final roar as it fell to the ground as Duncan jumped off.

The warden wiped his brow and looked at the Khajiit who was now back to herself. He patted Galum on the shoulder as he walked over to her.

"You will need to explain exactly what this kind of magic is that you use when we are at Ostagar. I thank you again for the help, are you able to walk?", Duncan asked.

"This one can walk, perhaps the little man can give a hand though".

Galum let out a sigh and turned to the khajiit, "I am a dwarf you furball".

"A dwarf? This one is actually looking a dwarf!", Kiz'arja let out a delighted pur and jumped a little.

"By the stone kitty, you are strange. Take it easy will ya", Galum chuckled and allowed Kiz'arja to lean against him.

Duncan guided them the last of the way, advising the khajiit to keep her face covered as they came to the ruins. Not only had he managed to gain a recruit in Orzammar but also a second that was a mystery in her own right. This was going to be one interesting day.


	3. Sweetrolls, scars and a haircut

In the ruins of Ostagar, the warden commander and his two recruits walked on. Galum was holding on to the khajiit, making sure she didn't fall. Every now and then a passing soldier or servant would look at the group with mixed expressions. The woman in the strange armour was enough to get anyones attention. At the sight of Duncan however, it became clear she was with the wardens. As they came closer to the large bridge that lead into the main ruins, a man in golden armour approached.

Kiz'arja raised her head, the smell of gold and wine pulling her to the land of the living. She looked at the human and tilted her head. He looked like a nord, a short nord though. She knew it was unlikely that was his race, considering she was in another word. The man was young, he still held hopeful look in his eyes. The khajiit studied his armour, he was a man of importance at least. She finally paid attention to the conversation he was having with Duncan when the warden called the man majesty.

"-Are these two your new recruits? I was only informed of the one from Orzammar", the king looked at the dwarf then at the masked woman.

"Allow me to introduce you", Duncan offered but the king shook his head with a smile.

"There is no need for that, we will be shedding blood together afterall. May I know your names?".

Galum eyed up the king, he looked too young to be a ruler. That being said, he was raised knowing only his beloved father as a ruler. And men without beards just seemed younger to him. "The names Galum", the dwarf offered a short bow.

"Its nice to see one of the stout folk from Ozammar here on the surface", Cailan smiled.

This didn't go well with Galum, "Who are you calling stout pretty boy? Is that some dig?", the exiled prince shouted.

Duncan watched in horror at the recruits lack of respect for the king. Cailan however just laughed and turned to the dwarf, "Not at all, I meant it was nice to see a dwarf. My father and I went there once, I was lucky to witness one of the provings. We met the king, he seemed a excellent ruler. Tell me, how does he fair these days?"

Galum looked down at his boots, he had heard that his father had fallen ill not long after he was arrested. The lost of two sons was too much to handle. "The king is my father", the dwarf sighed.

"I see then after this battle we shall need to sit down properly and have a conversation. I am curious of your story. And what of you my lady?", the king turned to Kiz'arja.

The khajiit looked at the king, meeting his gaze. She had met many men of importance in her life, be it to kill a would-be-king, a puppet queen, jarls or even to murder the emperor. They all had that same look in their eyes. Pride.

"This one is called Kiz'arja", she shrugged. Cailan was surprised at her tone and name.

"Tell me of yourself? Such a unique name and strange accent, where are you from?", he questioned.

"This one is from Elsweyr".

"She is from far away lands your majesty, perhaps I can fill you in on the details at a later time? Kiz'arja is in need of healing, we fought several darkspawn on the travel back", Duncan suggested.

The king was satisfied at this and raised his brow at the flicker of a tail under the strange womans cloak. He trusted Duncan however and nodded. After saying his farewells, the king headed across the bridge.

Duncan turned to his two recruits and sighed, "The day is getting along and we must proceed with the ritual by tonight. Go and find Alistair and tell him it is time. Then come find me by the camp", he said to Galum before he turned to Kiz'arja, "I want you to come with me. I am going to take you to the grey warden camp, someone will be able to help with that wound and you can tell me your story".

He picked the khajiit up, noting the warmth coming from her. A soft purr vibrated against his chest and he chuckled to himself. She truly was a cat like creature. He made his way through the encampment, passed the templars that guarded the mages. He managed to avoid their questions and headed for where the wardens were camping beyond the ruins.

The grey wardens were few in Fereldan, no more than twenty tents were set up for the wardens. Men sat around fires laughing and talking. The grey wardens were always willing to live their days as if it was the last. Those who saw the warden commander would nod or bow in respect. It was when Duncan entered a large tent at the base of the wardens camp that some noticed the woman in his arms.

The fabric moved, allowing Duncan to enter the tent. He set the khajiit down on a fur pile and turned back to the opening of the tent. He ran his eyes over the camp and spotted two men. "Lucas, Gregor come here. I need your help with something", he called over for them.

Gregor was a burly man, standing far taller than most of the wardens. He could drink anyone under a table and still be sober. He was also a scholar, with a wealth of knowledge and experience. Lucas was a skilled mage, recruited little over a year ago from the circle of magi. He was always a cocky young man but his magical capabilities made him a great asset to the wardens. The two men approached the commander and they entered the tent.

"This is Kiz'arja, a new recruit. She's been tainted so I need help to slow the process until the ritual. There is one thing however", Duncan kneeled down and removed the khajiits mask and hood.

Lucas let out a surprised gasp, his eyes widening as he looked at the strange creature before him. Gregor on the other hand kneeled down and looked at her closely. Kiz'arja let out a pained groan and hissed at the pain coursing through her body. The burly man placed his hand on the khajiits head and ran his fingers through her long locks of hair that escaped from their tie. This action calmed her down a little.

"What is she sir?", Lucas asked the commander.

"She says that she is a khajiit from a far land. From what I witnessed she is a mage that is able to use vast abilities. She can also summon weapons and has proven herself a strong fighter. She has healing capabilities and does something with her voice that allows her to do strange magic", Duncan explained.

"Yes but... what exactly is she sir? She looks like a cat", the mage warden asked again.

The sudden movement of a shock spell caused the mage to jump. Gregor chuckled at the khajiit who struggled to sit up. "This one is a khajiit, not a cat. Kiz'arja does not say meow", she hissed.

"You could have seriously hurt me you feline!", the mage shouted.

"If Kiz'arja wanted to hurt you, she would shout".

Duncan sighed and rubbed his beard, "Behave you two. Kiz'arja, these two men are grey wardens and are going to help with your pain until the ritual tonight", he explained.

"First this one is hungry", the khajiit stated as she placed her hand in her sack.

The three wardens looked at the fluffy recruit as she pulled four large items of food from her sack. They had never seen something so peculiar yet tasty looking. Especially since they had been living off bland stew, hard bread and the occasional cheese for months. And the cheese was only if they got to it before Alistair.

"Would you like a sweetroll?", the khajiit offered.

"What is a sweetroll?", Lucas asked earning a gasp from Kiz'arja.

"It is only the greatest thing to ever exist! You must try", she yelled as she shoved one into the mages mouth. The two other men laughed at how lively the strange woman was and took a sweetroll.

Duncan was amazed at the taste, it was like bread with hints of honey and sugar. There was something else laced into the baked treat but he couldn't figure it out. Gregor ate his in two bites, welcoming the sweet taste.

"This is delicious", Duncan stated. The burly man nodded in agreement, whilst Lucas ate his in silence. "May I ask, how is it you were able to store them in such a small sack?".

Kiz'arja leaned into her sack and pulled out a set of armour. "This one placed an enchantment on it. The sack holds as much as this one desires and only this one can remove something from the sack", Kiz'arja sighed as she felt the tear in her nightengale armour. She made a note to fix it later and began to remove her armour.

"Um Kiz'arja, should you not leave getting dressed until we leave?", Lucas asked her.

"Kiz'arja is not ashamed of her body. She is used to undressing in front of others", the khajiit shrugged as she thought of her time in the companions or travelling with her friends, "Besides this one has a shirt underneath".

Lucas turned away anyways, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks. Duncan picked up the armour set that she had pulled from her magic sack and studied it. It was a strange armour, golden fur formed over a chainmail vest. A large steel corset wrapped around the waist, the face of a wolf etched into the metal. Along with it was a pair of gloves with claws on the knuckles and iron greeves with spikes along the footing. "It is called Saviours hide, this one was giving it for killing a werewolf", the khajiit explained.

The more Duncan learned of this woman, the more he wanted to ask her. Gregor found himself observing the khajiit. She had fur all over, her stomach was smoother however. She indeed was a woman, the bindings over her chest was proof of that. Scars littered her black fur, some looked from claws whilst others were sword wounds. One made him curious however, it was a large bite would on her left shoulder. He walked over to her and touched the scar.

"What caused this one?", he asked. His voce was deep as he touched the scar.

Lucas turned to see what he was talking about and blushed redder. There was something beautiful about this exotic creature. The warden commander looked up as well. "That was from a dragon", the khajiit explained.

"You have fought a dragon before?", Duncan asked, he was truly fascinated by her.

"In her land, this one is a dragon hunter of sorts".

She hissed again, the darkspawn wound aching. The mage warden kneeled down and looked at the injury. With her fur it was harder to see. "I need to cut the fur around the wound", he stated.

Gregor handed Lucas a dagger. "Alright lass, time for a haircut".


	4. Prepare For The Wilds.... meow?

The warden camp and soldiers that nestled within the valley outside of the Ostagar ruins were usually calm enough. Yet a loud scream echoed throughout the camp, drawing many gazes in the direction of a particular tent. The large tent was the sleeping area of the warden commander. Within the tent Lucas was clutching hit cheek in pain. It was he that let out such a scream.

Kiz'arja had been willing for the fur around her wound to be cut away, until the blasted mage had touched her skin with his cold hands. This resulted in her slashing at his face with her claws. Gregor was on banging his fist against the table in laughter, even Duncan found himself sharing a chuckle. The khajiit got to her feet and shakingly walked over to the mage.

"This one is sorry for hurting you. She is not used to the cold and your hands are very cold", Kiz'arja said as she kneeled down by Lucas, "Allow Kiz'arja to heal you", she cast her healing spell over the mans cheek.

Lucas had seen magic most of his life, he had known very few healers however. Most mages chose to study the elemental side of magic. He had known of two skilled healers, a kind woman by the name of Wynne and a arogant mage who was a two years younger by the name of Anders. He sighed in relief as the pain on the side of his face faded. When the khajiit pulled away, he placed his hand on his cheek and gasped. There was not a single sign of being injured.

"It's alright I suppose, but you owe me furball. I want you to teach me that healing spell some time", Lucas smirked.

"Kiz'arja shall try".

Lucas returned to looking at her wound and frowned. Her body seemed to be healing quickly, sealing the tainted blood within her. Whilst her body's regeneration was something he found interesting, he was worried that he would not be able to get what caused the wound out. He looked closer and could see a piece of an arrow digged into the wound. "I need to remove the arrow", he stated. "Gregor hold her down, I don't want my face to be cut again".

The larger of the wardens gave Kiz'arja an apologetic look as he pulled her to his chest. The khajiit was aware of the pain she was about to feel and did her best to bite her tongue. As Lucas dug his fingers into the wound, she let out a hiss. The deeper the mage had to go to pull the arrow out, the more curses escaped her. Duncan raised his brow at the phrases. Finally Lucas was able to pull the arrow out and tossed it aside. He cleaned the wound a little and sighed.

"She will survive for a few days, it will be painful but she will make it to the joining tonight. The sooner you start the better", the mage explained.

Kiz'arja groaned and healed herself a little. It didn't hurt as much now. She reached into her sack and took out some bandages and wrapped up the wound, with the help of Gregor. She carefully dressed into her armour set and placed the nightengale set back into her sack.

"This one thanks you for the help", the khajiit said as she pulled a necklace from her collection. "This is enchanted to help your magic last longer. Take it as a gift from this one. Kiz'arja is grateful".

Lucas looked at the necklace in awe, he could feel the magic laced within the metal. He placed it on, already feeling it mould into his own magic. Kiz'arja turned to Duncan and nodded. "This one is ready, what would you ask of her?"

As much as Duncan wished to talk with her, he decided he would ask her once she returned from the wilds. By now Galum would have found Alistair.

"I have a task for you and the other recruits. We will discuss what I wish to know about you later. Come, Alistair and your fellow recruits will be waiting. Perhaps you could wear your cloak and mask again, best avoid too much attention right now", the commander suggested.

With that Gregor and Lucas bid farewell to Kiz'arja, both hoping that Maker willing, she would survive the ritual.

Duncan walked at a steady pace, Kiz'arja limping a little behind. Some passing soldiers would looked at the strange woman, some admiring her armour for a few reasons. One of those reasons being it was like no other armour, another being that it was rather tight on her body. The fur that showed on her legs, many simply thought it part of her armour. Every now and then the would catch the glimpse of her tail swaying under her cloak. This would cause the soldiers to take a second look, only to find the woman had disapeared amongst the crowds. At the large fire, where Duncan often spent his time when not with the other wardens and king, the commander awaited Galum to return with Alistair.

Kiz'arja raised her head, the dwarfs scent catching her nose. He smelled like stone and blood, a hint of wine. Her eyes landed on the dwarf, he stood near the kennels with large hounds. Another human was watching him as he tried to muzzle one of the hounds. The khajiit let out a soft laugh at the sight, the dog was almost the same height as Galum. She watched as the dwarf climbed over the gate, trying his hardest not to fall. The dwarf and new human approached Kiz'arja and Duncan, the new comer looking at Kiz'arja with confusion.

"Glad you two finally decided to join us", Duncan stated, trying to hide that he had just returned a few moments before.

"Yes sorry about that, the chantry mother asked to send for a mage", the new man said. Kiz'arja looked at him closely, he smelled of cheese, hay and carried a similiar scent to the other wardens: death.

"She sent you to harrass the mages did she?", Duncan raised his brow at the man.

"It is not my fault that they take offence. Honestly the way that woman weilds guilt, they should put her in the battle", the man jested.

As the man spoke with Duncan, Kiz'arja turned to Galum.

"This one saw you placing a muzzle on the hound", she said.

The dwarf looked up at his fluffy companion and smirked, "Aw is the kitty jealous I spent time with a dog instead of you", he crossed his arms. Kiz'arja let out a chuckle, she may have been of a feline race but she also used to be a werewolf when she was with the companions.

"Not at all, this one just enjoyed herself. Watching such a little man helping a hound the size of him, it made Kiz'arja smile".

"I am a dwarf lass not a 'little man'. Go chase a ball of yarn already", Galum friendly punched her on the arm.

"This one has no yarn...", Kiz'arja sighed, almost sounding sad at the fact.

Duncan let out a cough, bringing the pair back to his attention. Amusement was written in his eyes and the new man had a smile. "Allow me to introduce you, Alistair this is Kiz'arja. To make things short, she is a mage from far away lands. She is also not human", Duncan introduced the pair.

"Are you a elf then?", Alistair asked Kiz'arja as he looked at her closely.

"Kiz'arja is no elf, she is a khajiit".

"What is a khajiit?", the young warden looked at her in confusion.

Kiz'arja sighed and pulled her mask down real quick, causing the warden to gape at her. Galum reached up and closed Alistiars mouth. "Yeah it's quite a surprise. One pretty kitty though", the dwarf chuckled as he winked at Kiz'arja.

"You are a cat...", Duncan sighed at the mistake of Alistairs word of choice. The young warden let out a small cry when the khajiit ran her clawed hand over his backside.

"How many times must this one say? Kiz'arja does not say meow", the black khajiit frowned under her mask.

Duncan let out another frustrated sigh and sent Alistair to find the other two recruits. Kiz'arja and Galum laughing loudly as the warden limped off rubbing his behind. The pair seemed to get along well, the warden commander could hope that they would survive the joining. It would be good for the pair of them to work together in the times to come.

Soon enough the blonde arrived back with two more humans, one carried himself with a air of a noble whilst the other sundered in with the light footing of a thief. Kiz'arja could pick a thief out of a crowd anywhere, being trained in the art of stealth as both a thieves guild member and an assassin. "Good, now that everyone is here I will make a quick introduction".

He introduced the noble as a knight called Jory, the way he looked down at the other recruits tempted Kiz'arja to shout him across the camp. The thief was named Daveth, he seemed to flirt with the khajiit based on the simple fact that she was female: even if he could not see her face. Galum was introduced and he gave a dramatic bow.

"Galum Aeducan, princely prince of Ozammar, lover of women and men alike", he winked cheekily at Alistair, "And this is my kitty", he slapped Kiz'arja of the behind, causing her to let out a surprised sound that sounded awwfully like a meow.

"This 'kitty' belongs to no one. This one is called Kiz'arja", the khajiit yawned and leaned her arm on the dwarfs head. Galum shrugged looked up at Duncan.

"Now that you all know each others names, it is time for me to tell you what you will be doing. You are to travel into the wilds and fill four viles with darkspawn blood. Secondly, I want you to find old treaties that are in old ruins in the wilds. The ruins were once a grey warden outpost, the treaties should still be there", the warden turned to Galum, "I want you to lead this mission. Alistair will be there to help dectect and fight darkspawn but he is mainly there to obeserve", with that the group set off in the direction of the wilds.

Kiz'arja was excited to battle, her inner thief was curious of these treaties as well. With a rumbling stomach and sweetroll in hand, she was ready for the journey ahead.


	5. Wilds, Witches and A Giant Cup

The korcari wilds lay beyond Ostagar, filled with barbarians, darkspawn, beasts and the unknown. Rumours tell that deep within the wilds is the home of a witch named Flemeth: the witch of the wilds. The group of warden recruits and one junior warden found themselves in one such place. Heavy gates shutting behind them, leaving them to head on their mission.

Galum found himself looking at the vast amounts of trees, having lived underground for the last twenty seven years, the sight of trees were still strange to him. He raised his head, taking in the scent of fresh air and pine. Kiz'arja looked at the dwarf, a playful look in her eyes. She kneeled down and flicked his forehead.

"What was that for kitty?", the dwarf grumbled as he rubbed his forehead.

"This one could not resist. She saw the little man looking at trees as if you had never seen them before" Kiz'arja stuck out her tongue.

"I've lived underground all my life lass".

Alistair coughed causing the pair to look at him. "Not to interrupt this awkward courting session but we have vials of blood to get", he sighed.

The dwarf and khajiit took one look at each other and laughed. "Why are you laughing?", the warden pouted and turned to Jory and Daveth, "Why are they laughing?".

Galum looked over to the blonde and smirked, "Nothing pretty boy, so shall we get going? I want to get back in time for a few drinks, I'm curious if kitty dances when she is drunk".

The group headed down a winding path that opened up into a dense tree line. They encountered a pack of wolves, their fur matted in blood and the flesh on some seemed to be rotted from prior fights. Kiz'arja wrinkled her nose at foul scent of decay. Along the way she would look at her surroundings, keeping an eye out for threats. Her trained eye and strong sense of smell made her on high alert. The litter of new sights and smells were slightly overwhelming.

The dwarf raised his hand in the air, having the group stop. Alistair approached him with a puzzled look, he sensed no darkspawn. "Over here", a voice called out, strained and broken.

Kiz'arja pushed passed the men and scanned the area, her eyes landing on a bloodied man. His leg twisted in a sickening way, sword wounds scattered across his left arm. She carefully kneeled besides him and looked over at the men.

"Makers breathe, how is he still alive?", Jory gaped at the man in horror.

"Please help me", the injured mans voice was strained, pleading almost.

"We should end his misery", the thief remarked.

Kiz'arja sent glares to the knight and thief before turning to Galum and Alistair. The two men seemed to agree with Daveth. The khajiit sighed and shook her head, she placed a hand upon his forehead and tilted her head. "This one shall heal you".

"Hold on kitty, you might be a healer but it would takes the paragons luck to save him", the dwarf moved closer to her and kneeled down.

"He's right, Kiz'arja we cannot save everyone", Alistair sighed as he looked at the feline creature.

The khajiit hissed at the men and looked at the injured man. Her hands hovered over the injuries and began to heal him. A soft humming sound vibrated in the air, calming the man. Alistairs eyes widened as he watched the life threatening wounds healed. The man carefully sat up and looked at his leg amazed.

"Ho-how?", his voice was shaky.

"This one healed you, you should be thankful for Kiz'arja".

"I am, its just... mages are dangerous", the man sounded frightened. Kiz'arja pulled a dagger from her boot and held it to his throat.

"This one is dangerous with or without her magic".

Galum let out a cough and tugged the khajiit away. They bid farewell to the man before gathering in a circle. Kiz'arja sat down, fiddling with her dagger. It was curved and a soft glow surrounded it. She was given it by Astrid after she betrayed the brotherhood. It was also a connection to home and her family, a reminder of where she came from. Her nose wrinkled at the sudden scent of fear and she leaned back, her eyes glancing at the knight and a playful glint laid in her eyes.

She jumped up and danced around him. "Is it just Kiz'arja or is this knight scared. Shaking in his boots at the idea of fighting these darkspawn", her voice was darker than normal. The assassin within her enjoyed watching others suffer in some ways.

The knight glared at her and stood straight, crossing his arms over his chest. "I am not afraid, it just doesn't seem right that we should be putting ourselves in such danger", he tried to defend himself.

Galum raised his brow in amusement, having been raised in Orzammar as the kings son he was used to fighting darkspawn. He was not used to men acting like cowards in the face of battle. Perhaps it was a human thing. He watched as his kitten sniffed at the knight, her tail swaying.

"This one can smell the fear, she know's things. She knows you fear the unknown, that you desire to be brave and yet all Kiz'arja sees is a coward".

"I am no coward you beast. I am a knight, a warrior and a -"

"-A coward".

Alistair sighed and let out a cough, "A little fear never hurts anyone, it is good to be cautious. I am a warden, I will be able to sense it when the darkspawn are near", he gave a small nod at Jory.

"Well pretty boy , looks like you are useful. Our very own darkspawn detector", Galum laughed and slapped Alistair on the arse. Alistair let out a yelp as he rubbed his behind, the dwarf chuckling as he walked away. Galum kneeled down and picked a flower, making note that he had promised the kennel master he would bring one back for the sick hound.

Not too far from the group was a large hill, darkspawn lingered in the area. Two of the darkspawn noticed the group and ran towards them. The noise drawing the attention of three archers on the hill. Alistair, Jory and Galum charged at the warriors , the sound of metal clanging in the air. A arrow flew past Kiz'arja, leaving a whilsting sound in her ear. Daveth let out a shout before drawing his bow and firing back.

The khajiit watched for a moment, the warriors were able fighters. The problem was hitting the archers with a spell without hitting any of them. She spotted a ruined stone alter nearby and jumped up on it. Her hand flickered and she conjured a bow. Daveth looked over at her for a moment in awe. He had never seen a magical bow before, it looked like it was on fire with purple flames. Kiz'arja took a slow breath and pulled back the bowstring. Her tail became still as she released an arrow, it weaved passed a small gap between Jory and Alistair and landed right between one of the archers eyes. She took this chance to jump down and charge towards the remaining archer, Daveth joining the warriors with his daggers.

Kiz'arja jumped into the air, releasing burning flames from her hands. The darkspawn let out a sickening scream before it fell to the ground, its flesh melting into its bone.

The recruits were successful in this battle, the warrior darkspawn falling with the combined efforts of the three warriors and rogue. Galum kneeled down and drew a blade across one of the deads throat, letting its blood pour into the vial.

"Nug shit, this stinks worse than a dusters arse filled with a nugs intestines", Galum bit back some throw up as the blood let out some gurgle sounds and puss escaped into the vial of blood.

Daveth and Jory agreed with the dwarf completely, the smell was unbearable. Kiz'arja let out a chuckle as she filled her own vial. She had smelled worse things than this, the inside of a dragon being one or a giants two being another. She shuddered at the thought as she rejoined her team.

"Now that we have the blood, we should head to the old watch tower and get those treaties for Duncan", Alistair suggested.

"Aye lad, just keep doing that strange darkspawn dectector thing along the way", Galum let out a laugh.

As the group moved further into the wilds, the fought more darkspawn. One had a staff on it that Kiz'arja gladly took to add to her collection. She had placed it into her sack, enjoying the confused look on the knights face.

The tower was truly nothing but a ruin, the wilds had reclaimed it. Trees overran the structure, walls crumbled and few pieces of the structure still remained. Alistair spotted a large chest, the warden crest engraved onto it. It looked dented and forced open. He opened it only to find it empty. After having the group search for any other chest, Galum let out a shout. He had found a skeleton, concealed within heavy armour. The warden sigil was engraved onto the armour, just as the dwarf was kneeling down to check the long dead warden for the treaties, his kitten let out a hiss.

"Well, well what do we have here I wonder? Are you a vulture? Picking at the remains that have long since been reclaimed. Or merely an intruder, coming here into these darkspawn filled wilds of mine in hopes of easy prey", a voice echoed within the crumbled walls.

Galum looked up at the woman before him, after only seeing dwarven women, old chantry mothers, a cat lady and that one darkspawn that looked like it has a bosom, she was a welcome sight. Her hair was raven black, skin pale as snow, lips plump and legs were long. Her attire alone left little to the imagination.

"Well then what are you? A vulture or an intruder?", she asked once more.

"We are with the wardens, this tower belongs to the grey warden", Alistair frowned.

"Tis a tower no longer. The wilds have long since reclaimed this part of the forest", the woman smirked. Alistair let out a pout and sigh.

"We are here to find treaties that belong to the grey wardens. Would you happen to know where they are?", the dwarf asked, surprising the group with his sudden princely tone.

The woman looked over at him with a sly grin. She studied each of the men with a disapointed gaze before her eyes landed on the unmasked khajiit. "Now what manner of creature are you?", she asked her.

"This one is khajiit".

"And what is a khajiit pray tell", the woman moved closer to Kiz'arja.

"Khajiit are khajiit. You do not smell right so this one advises you to not come so close", she hissed a little.

"Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine", the woman was truly curious about the khajiit.

Galum coughed and crossed his arms, wriggling his brows at the human woman, "My name is Galum Aeducan, prince of Orzammar", he smirked expecting to impress the human.

The woman let out a disgusted grunt before turning back to the khajiit, "If you must know, this one is known as Kiz'arja".

"Kiz'arja... how interesting. My name is Morrigan", the woman gave the khajiit a smile. "If you must know my mother has the treaties, follow me if you must".

Galum let out a snide remark about the view from behind as they followed the strange woman.

The walk was mild, not taking as quick as some of the men would have likes, namely Alistair and Daveth. They came into view of a small cottage by a lake. Smoke rose from the cottage, the faint scent of magic making Kiz'arja alert. They came to an elderly woman, her golden eyes studying the group.

Kiz'arja observed the woman, she could see a faint glimmer of magic surrounding her, as if to distort her appearance. The khajiit obeserved as the woman conversed with her dwarven companion, laughing when Daveth called her the witch of the wilds. She told them her name was Flemeth and looked at the khajiit with a curious gaze.

"As for you, you are far from what you seem. Lost and alone, holding on to a past whilst searching for a future. Your home is far but stay this path child... for the dawn will come", the witch winked playfully at the khajiit before handing the treaties to Galum. "I wish you luck in your coming battle wardens, Morrigan show your guests back to their camp".

The younger witch stayed silent the entire journey back to the Ostagar ruins, simply offering a nod as they came into view. Galum turned to say goodbye to her, only to find a single black feather floating slowly to the ground. He grabbed it carefully and placed it in his pack, a strange feeling of luck filling him as he touched it.

The group returned to Duncan at last, by now the sun had set and the evening sky was a soft purple. Duncan looked at the group, the knight seemed exhausted, Galum was wearing a creepy grin and the strange khajiit was fiddling with the jester hat she wore on her waist.

"You have returned, were you successful?", he asked Alistiar.

Alistair nodded and looked at the group, knowing what would come next. "Very well, then we must proceed with the joining", Duncan looked at each of the recruits, sorrow hidden in his eyes. He doubted all of them would survive.

"What is this joining? Have we not proven ourselves enough?", Jory moaned, his voice starting to annoy Kiz'arja.

"And the knight smells of piss and fear once more. This one grows sick of the stench", the khajiit hissed as she leaned against Galum.

"I am ready for this joining, and I'm pretty sure that kitty here is too", the dwarf smirked. Duncan nodded and told them to follow Alistiar.

On the outskirts of the ruins was an old temple, run down from the ages. A large alter stood, empty vials that once held the darkspawn blood and other items were spralled over the stone. A large chalice with a glowing liquid stood, the group of recruits glancing over at it.

"This one is not sure what this joining entails but Kiz'arja must say.... that is one giant cup".


	6. Puss Blood, Memories and A Frisky Kitty

A thickened, black liquid glistened in the goblet that sat upon the alter. As the knight and thief argued and Galum teased Alistair. Kiz'arja gazed at the goblet with a curious gaze, her nose wrinkling at the scent. The scent was putrid, worse than the insides of a troll. The khajiit turned away, trying not to think on what was within the goblet and focused on the approaching warden commander.

Duncan had overseen the joining multiple times in his life, he had watched as ideal recruits died or were slain for backing out. Despite this fact, he still hated the ritual for the fact it would take lives. He knew it was necessary, no matter the cost. So once more he approached a group of skilled recruits, hoping the maker would allow at least one to survive.

"And so here we are, the wardens have always fought against the blight. Only a grey warden can slay the archdemon and so we are needed. This joining has been done since the first of the wardens and now it is your turn", the commander spoke as he took the daunting goblet in his grasp, "In order for a grey warden to fight as we do, we drink the blood of darkspawn. Once the blood is in our viens we can sense the darkspawn and in turn fight the blight".

Jory was the first to show fear, the idea of drinking the blood of those monsters being his breaking point. Duncan could see the knight shaking from the corner of his eye.

"Before we drink we say a few words, in honour of the grey wardens who have come before, words spoken since the first joining. Alistair if you would", Alistair nodded to Duncan, the same look of grief in his eyes.

"Join us brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn; and should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you".

Kiz'arja had been silent during this time, Duncan wondered if she too was feeling fear like the knight. In truth, the khajiit was remembering what she saw when Galum had filled his vial. The idea of drinking that puss filled blood left a sour taste on her tongue.

"Daveth will you go first?", Duncan asked the thief.

Daveth had been on edge about drinking from the goblet but he had a young sister at home. If he could be part of something that could protect her from the coming blight then he would do it without a second thought. He gulped as he took the chalice in his hands, the surface of the liquid was bubbling ever so slightly. "Here goes".

The thief took a large drink before handing it back to Duncan, the taste causing his stomach to churn, but only for a moment. His heart pounded against his chest, air escaping him as the tainted blood ran through his veins. Three seconds went by and his heart stopped beating. He could hear a whisper in his head, distant yet loud. Five seconds went and he stopped breathing, the whisper turned to a song. It was beautiful. Seven seconds passed and his body shut down, his soul being called to the Makers side.

"Well...shit", Galum muttered as he looked at the dead thief whoms viens were black against his skin.

"I am, Daveth. Now Ser Jory you must drink too", Duncan held the chalice to the knight.

Jory shook his head, his hands trembeling at he reached for his sword. "No, this isn't right. I have a wife, a child. I will not drink", his voice held fear.

"You must drink Jory", Duncan repeated himself, his free hand reaching for his own sword.

Jory drew his two handed blade, ready to fight the commander. Within moments Duncan had placed the goblet down and swung his blade. The knight managed to deflect two attacks before his heart met with the metal of Duncans blade. Kiz'arja looked down at the dead knight and sighed. "Well...shit".

"The joining is not yet done, for you two are left. Shall you drink or fight?", Duncan turned to Galum.

"Eh I'll drink from the giant cup. Give me the shitty blood of death", the dwarf sighed and took the goblet. Kiz'arja snickered at how large it was compared to the little man.

Galum handed the goblet back to the commander, taking in the fact that it tasted worse than it smelled. He had drank the ale from tapsters tavern and once believed it was the worse thing he would ever taste. Now he wished it was the shitty ale. It pumped into his viens, turning his blood black. He heard whispers and flashes filled his mind as the tainted blood became one with his own. He fell to the ground, to Duncans relief: alive.

"Good, he lives. And last, if you survive this will slow the blight that is within you. Will you drink or fight?", Duncan turned to the khajiit.

Kiz'arja shrugged and took the chalice, her nose scrunching at the scent. It smelled far worse this close to her nose than it did when it was on the alter. Her ears flatened as she took the blood down her throat. A burning sensation filled her, her body trying to fight the blighted blood. Ringing and whispers filled her ears, the khajiit trying to figure out if the whispers were from the blood or the usual ones in her head. As she fell to the ground, Duncan sighed in relief.

"Two survivors this time. It may be a few hours until they wake".

Kiz'arja felt as if her body was floating, the distant sound of laughter surrounded her. The jingle of bells came from behind her followed by a warm laugh.

"In the void, she has come! The listener has come home! In the void, she has come! The listener has come for Cicero!", a familiar jester sang and danced around her.

Kiz'arja felt tears swell in her eyes as she embraced the dancing fool. The scent of dirt and cheese. The scent of home. She heard her name being called and turned, a little girl khajiit was standing by a male khajiit.

"Miz'ala! J'zargo!", she ran towards them. Her heart beating faster than ever before at the sight of her mate and child.

"Mama! You have come home", the child embraced her mother.

A arm wrapped around her waist and the scent of magic and books engulfed her sense of smell. J'zargo looked down at his mate, love shinning in his eyes. "This one has awaited you", his voice was like music in her ears.

"Kiz'arja is sorry for taking so long. She is here now", Kiz'arja rubbed her nose against J'zargos. Their little girl feeling the loving embrace of her parents around her.

"Listener, Cicero is sorry for interupting but the void has grown darker", the jester said as he pointed a rolling black mist.

Kiz'arja clung to her family as the fog rolled in, her senses fading away and with one final heartbeat she found the blackness consume all she loved.

The khajiit sat up with a gasp, her eyes darting around her. "J'zargo! Miz'ala!", her voice was broken, tears fell from her eyes.

Galum was the first to her side, he had awakened one hour before. Worry was writted over the dwarfs face as he looked at his weeping kitten. "It's alright kitty", he spoke softly as he pulled her against his chest.

The khajiit welcomed his touch, the tears soon fading and her emotions dulling. Her years with the dark brotherhood had taught her how to shut off her emotions. She pulled away from Galum with a nod. "Kiz'arja is fine now, she thanks you for your concer", her voice was duller than before.

The commander and Alistair approached, Alistair holding a silver pendant in his hand. "I am glad that you also survived, in my joining I was the only one. We take a piece of the blood that is used in the joining and put it in a pendant, a way to remember those we lost", he handed her pendant.

Kiz'arja looked at the necklance, it was simple enough. She placed it around her neck, allowing it to fall and join the locket she already worse. "Did you also have bad dreams?", Alistair asked.

"This one had the worse of dreams", Kiz'arja sighed as she tried to contain her grief. It felt like she had lost her best friend and family all over again.

Duncan smiled sadly at the khajiit, he had heard the names she had called and wondered if they were people she once knew. "Now that you have survived the joining, we must prepare for the battle at dawn. In the meantime the king has asked to speak to you two. Come with me to the war table, Alistair return to the camp and ready the other wardens". The commander beckoned for his two new wardens to follow, Galum and Kiz'arja walking slowly behind him.

In the middle of the run down ruins, in what once must have been a beautiful court room laid a large oak table. The king argued with a man in silver armour. Kiz'arja had seen many men like him, he carried himself with pride, judging everyone around him. The sly look in his eyes of that of a traitor and creases under the eyes from sleepless nights. He was a warrior.

She observed as a mage argued with a woman in robes, a priestess of some sorts from what she could tell. Finally the king had turned to the wardens. The warrior in silver armour eyeing the once more masked khajiit.

"You are to light the beacon, signalling for Logains men to charge into the battle", the king spoke, Kiz'arja not paying much attention to the rest of his convervation.

Galum was frustrated, he had just drank a over sized cup filled with nug shit flavoured blood. He had been looking forward for hitting something but instead he was being tasked with lighting a fire. "I am not some babe still sucking on my mothers tits. Let me smash some darkspawn balls already", he spat.

"This one wonders, do darkspawn have balls? Kiz'arja shudders at the idea of the offspring", the khajiit questioned.

The dwarf let out a chuckle and Cailan bit back a chuckle. After a debate, Duncan finally convinced the dwarven warrior to do what was asked of him. So they found themselves in the wardens encampment at last. Kiz'arja spotted Gregor and Lucas, she walked over to them and held her claws to the mage. "This one should kill you for not telling her. Kiz'arja had to drink puss blood! PUSS BLOOD!", she yelled. A small shake in the air forming as she shouted.

Gregor let out a bellowing laugh as the mage paled. Kiz'arja chuckled and sat on Gregors lap, "This one shall keep you company in your tent tonight".

Gregor raised his brow, he had to admit he was intruiged. And so Galum watched as his kitty walked into a tent with a towering human, a smirk on his lips as he eyed a paled mage. He was going to have fun tonight, just like his kitten.

The warden camp, filled with laughter and drunken song... barely covering the calls of a towering man, khajiit, dwarven prince and a mage. All preparing in their own way for the battle at dawn, and the darkness that was to come.


	7. Before The Battle.... Kitty Chef!

The early hours of the morning came, stars still filled the sky of purple shades. Some of the wardens stirred, their stomachs aching for food. From a tent to the left, Gregor emerged, a grin on his normally stoic face. The wardens spotted one of their new comrades leave the tent next, pulling a mask over her face. The warden commander raised his brow at the towering warden who walked with a slight limp. Kiz'arja approached the stew pop that sat by the camp fire, the grey substance caused her to wrinkle her nose. The sudden clang of metal caused the wardens to look in her direction, the khajiit had tipped the pot over.

“Oi kitty! Now what are we supposed to eat?”, Galum yelled as exited Lucas's tent.

“Kiz'arja refuses to eat anything grey. She shall make better food”, the khajiit shrugged as she sat on the ground.

She reached into her sack and began to pull out ingredients, causing some of the wardens to gather around her to watch. She placed two large cheese wheels on a cloth before summoning a dagger and slicing through them with ease. She continued to gather items from her sack, earning a little audience. The pop was refilled with the new ingredients and then filled with a wine from a blue bottle.

Galum took the bottle from her and took a gulp, his eyes widening at the rich flavour. “Kitty, what is this? Its like paragon Branka shoved her tits in my mouth”, the dwarf gasped.

The warden commander was curious, he kneeled down and took a drink as well. The other wardens began to take a drink as well, the tension of the coming battle fading a little.

“It is called Argonian blood wine, very popular in Cyrodiil and Skyrim”, the khajiit said as she mixed the pot.

“Blood? Argonian? Did I just drink more blood kitty?”, Galum spat and shuddered.

“Not actual blood little man”, the khajiit laughed a little, the other wardens laughed at the dwarf. It was clear that the two new wardens would fit in just fine.

Kiz'arja finally finished cooking and handed a bow to Duncan. The commander looked at it with hunger. It smelled like nothing he had tried and he eagerly tried some, the others watching their leader curiously. “It's good”.

As the wardens dug in, Alistair called Kiz'arja and Galum over. The pair approached him, the dwarf complaining that he wanted more food. He had not felt this hungry in his life, it was almost like swallowing a cup filled with puss darkspawn blood gave him an appetite. He looked up at Alistair with a smirk and slapped the warrior on the behind. “Miss me pretty boy?”, he chuckled.

“Trust me, I heard plenty last night”, Alistair sighed as he pointed to his tent which was located next to Lucas's.

The dwarf let out a deep laugh and looked up at Kiz'arja, “So you and the giant huh kitty?”, he wriggled his brows.

“This one wanted to climb the mountain”, Kiz'arja chuckled.

Alistair squirmed uncomfortably at the conversation and coughed to bring them back to his attention. “Duncan asked me to give you your new armours. This one is for you prince Charming”, the blonde handed Galum the standard warrior warden armour. The dwarf winked at Alistair before heading to Lucas's tent to change.

“This one has armour already”, Kiz'arja gestured at her current armour.

“This will allow others to know you are a grey warden, will you at least try it?”, Alistair pleaded with a friendly smile, “I'll tell you a secret if you do”.

“Kiz'arja enjoys secrets. Very well, this one will try it on”, the khajiit took the armour from him and headed over to Gregors tent.

Gregor watched the khajiit walk into his tent and smirked, remembering the night before. Most assumed they had spent this night together, whilst they did sleep in the same tent nothing had happened. She had broke down in his tent, speaking of her family that she had lost. They shared tales of their adventures, the giant laughing his arse off at the things she had done. Though he did get to see her body as she explained some of her scars and he was grateful for the sighed. She truly was an exotic wonder.

The khajiit had fiddled with the armour, it was tighter than she would have thought but they were kind enough to make adjustments for her tail. Gregor entered with a fabric in his hand, he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I got you something lass”, he handed her the fabric.

“This one once knew someone that called her lass. It is a comfort to hear. What did you get for Kiz'arja hmm?”, she said as she turned to face him.

“The armour suits you. This is just a hood that will help keep those pretty ears of yours covered and protected. It also has a mask piece for when you want to cover your face”, Gregor placed it over her head, fixing it to adjust over her ears.

The hood had a thick leather layer and chain mail scales fell around the ears. The mask was a simple breathable silk. “This one is grateful”, she pulled the mask down and leaned up, pressing her lips against the gentle man. Her heart pacing a little faster and a flutter in her stomach.

Gregor smiled nervously before leaving her alone, heading off to ready for the battle. He turned one last time and looked at her, “Once this battle is over lass, we should have a drink. I wonder how you can hold your liquor”, the giant laughed as he walked on into the now full camp.

Kiz'arja smiled sadly to herself, remembering the time she drank with a daedric prince. She tied the jester hat to her side and placed her dagger to her thigh. Her two necklaces clinked against each other as she placed them under her armour. She stepped out of the tent and looked around, her violet eyes landing on Galum and Alistair. The pair waved her over, Galum finding the pointy ears under her hood adorable. “Nice armour kitty”, he nodded as he looked her head to toe.

“This one put it on, now Alistair owes her a secret”, the khajiit looked at Alistair, her tail swaying expectantly.

The blonde coughed nervously, scratching his head. “Let's see... oh one time I wore a chantry sisters robe as a dare when I was with the templars”, he chuckled.

“What is a templar? Kiz'arja has never heard of them”.

Alistair looked at her shocked, he assumed everyone knew what the templars were, especially since she was a mage. “You truly are from elsewhere huh”, he crossed his arms.

“Yes, this one grew up in the warm sands of Elsweyr near the ocean”, the khajiit sighed, dreaming of the soft shores and her little run down shack she shared with her father and three brothers.

“You lived on a beach? I really do want to hear about your life sometime. Anyways a templar is someone trained to um handle mages”, the warrior felt nervous under the gaze of striking violet.

“Handle mages? How so?”

“We can cut the mages connection to the fade for a time, this stops them from using magic for some time. Our abilities can do more but I'm just not willing to say for now. Maybe another time”, Alistair looked around for Duncan.

Kiz'arja was silent, trying to imagine her magic being taking from her. The idea caused a small growl to escape her. Galum looked up at her and gave a small smile, “Don't worry kitty, I won't let any templar take my kittens magic away”, Kiz'arja hissed at him a little.

“Kiz'arja must keep repeating herself it seems. Kiz'arja is not a cat or kitten. She is khajiit, she does not say meow”. The exiled prince laughed at this and shook his head.

The warden commander finally showed, his eyes looking at the three wardens with a grim expression. The time for battle had finally come. He beckoned for them to follow him, the group weaving through the crowds of wardens, soldiers and chantry sisters. Gregor waved over at the khajiit whilst Galum made sure to slap Lucas's behind as they passed by. The mage let out a squeak causing the towering warden to laugh at his friend.

Duncan brought the three wardens to the fire near the kennels, as they would be heading across the bridge to the tower of Ishal, it was easier to access from here. Kiz'arja plopped herself on the ground, the bells of her jester hat jingling softly. Each of the men were truly curious about the hat.

“Are you aware of the plan”, Duncan asked the trio.

“Aye, cross the big bridge, climb a shit load of stairs, light a big fire”, Galum huffed, still unahppy that he was not going to be in the battle. “Can we at least join the battle after we light the fire?”, the dwarfs voice was a little hopeful.

“No, stay there and protect the tower. If we truly need you then we will send for you”, Duncan sighed. In truth if a archdemon showed itself, he did not want those three to try and kill it.

Galum sighed and turned to Alistair, “At least I have some time to spend with you pretty boy”.

Alistair chuckled nervously and turned back to Duncan, “What do we do of the archdemon comes, besides soiling our drawers”,the warrior felt anxious at the idea on fighting such a monster.

“Kiz'arja is curious, what is an archdemon?”, Kiz'arja asked as she stretched.

“It is an old god, a dragon”, Galum said as he remembered the stories he had heard growing up.

Kiz'arja chuckled suddenly, licking her lips a little. The men looked at the khajiit, wondering what had made her so excited. “This one is ready for battle now. Lets go eat some dragon soul”.

Alistair turned to Duncan offering a small prayer to the Maker, asking for his guidance. And so Alistair, Galum and Kiz'arja headed to the bridge. The battle begun and the moments leading to a darkness came.


	8. The Scent Of Sorrow.... The Battle

High above the ensuing battle, where man fought darkspawn, three wardensbegan to make their journey to the tower of Ishal. Large flamingballs were sent flying, clashing with the old structures. Statues fell, causing the once beauitful bridge to become scattered in dismay. Archers lined the bridge, firing arrows at the enemies below, Kiz'arja watched as some of the soldiers were sent flying as another wave of fire rained down on them.

The trio of wardens ran across the bridge, Galum scowling at the long legs of humans. He kept his pace, cursing the aches in his joints. Suddenly, the dwarf found himself flying into the stone as Kiz'arja pushed him and Alistair down. Another fire ball was hurdling towards them and would kill anyone on impact.

"Kitty!", Galum called out for her.

Kiz'arja smiled at the dwarf under her mask and took a deep breathe, "TIID KLO UL!"

Time slowed down, almost to a halt entirely. The khajiit got to work, pulling her fellow wardens off the bridge before returning to the rest of the soldiers that were in direct line of the ball of fire. She sighed and pulled each of them to the side, feeling time begin to return to normal. "Oh for fus sake", the khajiit mummered as she darted off the bridge.

Within a split second, each of the soldiers found themselves confused on how they had been moved. The fire ball made impact, blowing a large chunk from the bridge. To the soldiers, it was as if the Maker had just turned his gaze to them and moved them from harms way. It was the more obvious option over a cat lady froze time and moved them all. Kiz'arja turned to her fellow wardens and chuckled to herself.

"Um what just happened?", Alistair looked around confused, "We were just there, about to be blown and now we are here?".

"Sod this, kitty did you do your weird magic thing again? The shit with your mouth?", Galum looked up at Kiz'arja.

With a swaying tail and playful eyes the khajiit shrugged. Her attention turning to a man running towards them. The man was covered in blood, which surprised Alistair as there was not supposed to be any enemies here. "Please you have to help us! The darkspawn came from the tower", the soldier was panting.

"This one smells the stinky creatures", Kiz'arja said as she pointed up a small hill.

"How did they get in the tower?", Alistiar ask the soldier.

"I- I am not sure, Logain had mentioned something about a large hole being found but that was days ago".

"Looks like I get to bash some skulls afterall!", Galum was hyped as he turned to the khajiit, "Say kitty you wouldn't happen to have something in that weird sack of yours that will making crushing these dusters more fun?", the dwarf was joking. To his surprise, the khajitt reached into her sack and pulled a strange hammer looking weapon.

"Kiz'arja got this when she killed a giant. Shall make the darkspawn squishy", the khajiit seemed excited to fight as well.

Alistair watched as the pair readied for battle as if it was a game, wondering if he could ever enjoy the fight one day.

The wardens plus soldier entered the fight, several darkspawn had managed to find a way to take over the tower. Dozens stood between the wardens and the tower of Ishal. Kiz'arja felt something in the pit of her stomach to the tip of her tail, a forboding sign for her. She tried to shake it as she shocked, burned and froze her way through the darkspawn. Galum was laughing away as he smashed the giants hammer against each of the darkspawn. His laughter booming across the battle as he began to go beserk.

Alistair found himself charging at the warriors that tried to attack Kiz'arja, using his shield to deflect any attack. The khajiit caught on and soon they fought in sync, Kiz'arja throwing spells as Galum smashed the ones that survived and Alistair slashed behind his shield. The soldier watched in awe, he had never seen a grey warden fight and to see how three of them fell in tune with one another with such easy.

Finally they made it to the tower, the group panting as they pushed open the heavy doors. The tower was earily quiet, only distant echoes from the darkspawn deeper inside.

"This one will heal everyone. Be still", Kiz'arja faced the three men and cast a large healing spell. Alistair sighed in relief as the warmth spreading throughout his body. Galum enjoyed the tingles on his skin, still not used to the idea of magic however.

"Alright pretty boy, you are going to take the lead. You can sense them better than me or kitty. Soldier boy, take to the rear and use that crossbow of yours if any sneak near us - just don't touch or even look at my kittys rear. Kitten, you stay center, your magic is our advantage. I'll attack any warriors that come close. Do not break formation unless it is needed", Galum gave the orders. Alistair was more than happy for someone else to give the commands.

Kiz'arja looked at the dwarf knowing that he was born to lead.

As the team made their way through the first floor, taking out any darkspawn they saw. They made their way up the second and third with relative ease. It was the final floor, where the beacon awaited them to give the signal that brought the true challenge.

The ground shook, a grumbling sound echoed throughout the large room. The wardens found themselves facing a large ogre. It was larger than the one that Kiz'arja, Galum and Duncan had faced in the forest.

The beast wasted no time as it charged at the party, stomping the soldier. The sickening sound of crushing bones filled Kiz'arjas ears as she looked at the soldier. He was dead so quickly. She watched as the warrior wardens charged at the ogre, slashing and swinging at its legs. She waited until there was an opening and cast a large fireball. The ogre let out a roar as the fire burned into one of its arms. The loud noise caused the wardens to cover their ears, a stunned feeling filled Kiz'arja.

She cast another spell, this time it was an icy sprear. The spear lodged into one of the ogres eyes. Galum took the beasts distraction as a chance to throw the giant hammer against its foot. The ogre fell and Alistair stabbed its other foot so it would struggle to stand. He let out a small cheer, too early however as the darkspawn grabbed Alistair in its large hand. The warrior let out a pained grunt as he felt his body being crushed. Galum tried his best to make the beast let Alistair go, instead he was flung across the room.

Kiz'arja took a deep breath and made direct eye contact with the gaint. "GOL HAH DOV!".

The ogre suddenly stopped fighting, its eyes focused directly on the khajiit. "You will put the dwarf and human down now", her voice was stern, much like a scolding mother.

The darkspawn placed the men down carefully as Kiz'arja approached. The men watched as she placed her hand on the beasts face, as if she was looking for some sign of innocence in the creature. "This fate was a cruel one, no more shall this one let you suffer", her voice was softer than before.

In that moment the male wardens could not even describe what they witnessed. A tear fell from the ogres eye as Kiz'arja placed her hand on its chest and shot a bolt of lightning through its heart. As the beast fell to the ground, Galum and Alistair could swear they saw it smile. There was no time for wondering however. Alistair ran over to the beacon and asked for the khajiit to set it alight.

In the battle far below the tower, a rise of fire could be seen. General Logain watched it for a moment before calling a retreat, his men pulling from the battle instead of joining. The darkspawn began to overhwelm the soldiers and wardens, bursting from the ground. Duncan could hear the sinister whispers of an approaching darkspawn, as he turned he saw the king being throwing by a ogre. He drew his second blade and lunged at the ogre, killing it with his complete will. The warden commander limped over to the king, the young man was already by the makers side. He saw the beacon high above, its flames flickering away and in that moment he knew they had been betrayed. In his last moments he could only hope that Galum, Kiz'arja and Alistair still lived. A axe fell to his neck, leaving the commander to fall next to his king.

Kiz'arja could smell it, the scent of fear in the air. That feeling she had felt in her pit was bursting, as the door of the fourt floor was burst open. A arrow plunged itself against her face, causing the khajiit to fall. She saw Alistair and Galum fall as well as darkspawn piled into the room. She heard the familiar sound of a dragons roar as everything fell black. Her last waking thought was of a scent that filled the air around her.

The scent of sorrow.


	9. Cheesewheel Bandit!

Deep within the wilds, a distance away from the remnants of the battle, the injured wardens laid within a hut. Alistair was the first to stir, his eyes darting around for the others. When he saw Galum sprawled out on a bed, bandages covering his torso, the blonde sighed in relief. He worried for the other wardens, not even knowing quite where he was. He shakily got up from the cot he had been laid on and looked around for Kiz'arja. The khajiit was in the farthest corner of the hut, her body was healed from any injury and yet she was not awake.

Alistair leaned over her, he could feel her warm breathe so he knew she was alive at least. His body ached as he left the hut, his eyes aching at the bright light of day. He wondered how long they had been out as he looked around. The area seemed familiar, as did the elderly woman he looked on out to the lake. "How did we get here?", the blonde asked himself as he approached the woman.

"Well, well, look who is awake", Flemeth turned to look at the young man.

"What happened? Why are we here? Where is everyone, the king, Duncan? The last thing I remember was being shot by an arrow", Alistair was worried and confused about everything.

Flemeth looked at him with a apologetic expression, she truly was sorry to have to tell him the grave news. "Listen well boy".

Meanwhile, in the hut Morrigan was looking over the khajiit. The witch could not figure out why she was not awake yet. It had been several days, the witch had watched as the creatures wound healed and she studied her closely. It looked as if the creature was trapped in a memory or bad dream.

Kiz'arja found herself wandering through the cold city of Dawnstar, her dark brotherhood stained in blood. In her arms was a small child, to the on looker it could be seen that she was asleep. The khajiit stumbled through the snow, the dark of the night causing her black fur to blend in better. As she made her way out of Dawnstar, she approached the heavy door that sealed away the dark brotherhood. A few graves surrounded the hideout, friends she had lost over the years.

As the khajiit entered, she saw her dear friend Cicero sitting down near the night mother. "Oh my sweet listener! Cicero missed you", the jester glanced at his beloved listeners flatened ears and the dead child in her arms, "Is the unchild dead listener?".

"This one was too late. Kiz'arja moved as fast as she could, she slaughtered them all and yet those monsters killed Babette. Kiz'arja failed", the khajiit clutched the vampires small body to her chest.

"Cicero shall go dig another hole, then we can go kill someone", the jester kissed Kiz'arja on the forehead as he left the sanctuary.

How many years had she spent in the dark brotherhood? She had lost countless friends, and the new members were arrogant and weak. She had tried with all her heart to save Babette from the clutches of the Dawnguard and yet she failed. At some point, Cicero had come back and told her to come outisde.

Kiz'arja burried her sweet friend in the ground, fighting the tears as she filled the grave in. She turned to Cicero, bloodlust in her eyes. "Kiz'arja wants to take the lives of every Dawnguard scum. She shall gift them to the dread father", the khajiit hissed.

"Anything my sweet listener wishes".

A sudden sensation surrounded Kiz'arja, her body felt tense and she jolted back to the waking land.

Morrigan leaned closer to the cat creature and went to touch her ears when violet eyes widened. The witch let out a small squeal and a small flame escaped her hand. Kiz'arja let out a hiss as she strained to sit, her hand shooting out a shard of ice that deflected the flame.

A certain dwarf was still passed out on the main bed of the hut when he felt a sudden sense of danger heading his way. He shot up as a firebolt and ice shard colided into the wall behind him.

"Nug shit! What the heck was that?", Galum grumbled as he rubbed his hair, swearing he could smell the scent of a few charred hairs.

"Kiz'arja apologises, she was startled by the witch", the khajiit mumbled as she stretched. Her body aching as she felt her bones coming to life.

"Kitty! You could have ruined my handsome face", the dwarf chuckled as he painfully stumbled from the bed.

"This one would never hurt something beautiful... she will gladly hurt you", Kiz'arja stuck her tongue out.

A frustrated cough caused the pair to turn. The icy glare of the beauitful witch caused Kiz'arja to chuckle. The look was similar to the one Festus would make whenever Kiz'arja and Cicero played pranks on the brotherhood. "Is the witch needing something?", the khajiit tilted her head.

Galum looked around, the sudden realisation hitting him. "Where in Brankas tits are we? Weren't we in the big tower, lighting a giant fire", the dwarf scratched his beard.

"You do not remember? The darkspawn won the battle, if it had not been for my mother you two and your snivelling friend would have died", Morrigan frowned. She glared at the dwarf who was eyeing her up and down before turning to the khajiit. "Twas I who healed most of your wounds, if you are looking for that detestful little man he is outside with mother".

Galum left first, leaving the witch and khajiit alone. Kiz'arja looked at the woman, "tell this one, what happened in the battle?", she sat down, her tail wrapping around her side.

Morrigan was not sure how to explain it to the creature, a part of her was still distracted by the mystery that was Kiz'arja.

"The darkspawn have overrun the battle. Your warden friends have fallen along with the king, it would seem many of the soldier fled before the battle got intense", the witch explained.

Kiz'arja sighed and got to her feet, she faced the witch and nodded. "Kiz'arja understands. She shall join the others now. This one thanks you for helping her recover".

Outside the hut, Alistair was shaking. The grief was overwhelming him, like a crushing wind pushing down his chest. As the door opened, he watched as Galum stepped out. The dwarf strained his eyes at the light of day before feeling his body crashing to the ground with a heavy human on top of him. He looked up to see Alistair crying, the dwarfs eyes softened and he held the young man close.

"I worried I was left alone", the warden mumbled as he sat on the ground, Galum patting him on the shoulder. "Everyone is dead. That bastard Logain betrayed us...the king...Duncan".

The hut opened once more and Kiz'arja stepped out. Her usual braided hair was down in cascading waves, she wore a simple undershirt. Her tail swayed freely and scars lingered up her legs. Galum gulped as he eyed her from the tip of her tail to the tip of her ears, there truly was something exotically stunning about her.

The khajiit walked over to Alistair and pulled into a crushing hold. The grown man tried to keep a stoic face but her hold was like a loving mothers. "This one swears on the blood of the night mother that she shall take the life of Logain. Our friends shall not have died in vain", the khajiit hissed at the idea of Duncan, Lucas and Gregor being killed by the darkspawn.

Alistair looked down at her with a sad smile and nodded. There were only three of them now, how would they even manage to defeat the blight, let alone avenge their comrades.

Flemeth began to speak the trio, a sly smile hidden in her eyes. Kiz'arja watched as the witch danced around her words, a tone of certainty and plot. "Dwarves, elves, mages and who knows what else. That sounds like a army to me", the witch spotted her daughter spying on them and smirked.

"We thank you for all the help old woman. Is there anything else you can give us?", the dwarf grumbled. Any help would be useful but he was hoping for the clinking of gold. Having grown up knowing that only those who had the wealth could run an army properly. And he was an exiled prince, Alistair was a warden in battered armour and the khajiit unlikely even had their form of gold.

"Actually, I do", the witch turned to her daughter.

"This one is going to get ready", Kiz'arja shrugged and went back to the hut.

Kiz'arja messed with her armour for a while, she fiddled with her sack and strapped her dagger to her thigh. Her hands wrapped around Ciceros hat and she fought back the tears. She looked around and found the mask and hood that Gregor had given her and she felt a tear slide down her cheek. She quickly tied her hair back and pulled the hood up, allowing the mask to hang around her neck.

As she left the hut once more, Morrigan frowned at her. "I am being sent with you. I am going to gather my things then I shall join you", the witch sighed as she closed the door.

"So the grumpy witch is joining us?", Kiz'arja asked Alistair and Galum.

"We do need all the help we can get", Alistair sighed.

The khajiit walked over to Flemeth, the witch looked at her with a curious look. "This one wishes to know something".

Flemeth crossed her arms and awaited for the khajiit to continue, "Why is it that you have not reacted to Kiz'arja's appearance".

"Perhaps it is because I have lived a long time, perhaps I have seen stranger things than you. Or perhaps your destiny is so vibrant and important that your appearance is the least shocking thing about you", Flemeth chuckled at the glaring violet eyes, "Or perhaps I am just a old woman who's eyes aren't so good".

Kiz'arja sighed and pulled up her mask as she returned to her comrades. Morrigan soon joined them and the group headed outwards. The wilds surrounded them as they made their way to the village of Lothering. It wasn't until they came to a large bridge that they were stopped.

"Well, well. This is a strange group of travellers, lead by a dwarf of all things!", a man chuckled as he stepped towards them.

"With all the refugees entering Lothering, theres a fee to pay now. Thirty silvers and you are free to go in", the man chuckled and rubbed his greasy fingers together.

"Not gonna happen ugly", the dwarf smirked, his body itching for a fight.

"You pay with silver or you pay with blood", the bandit laughed, thinking they would cave.

The bandit watched as a masked woman at the back reached into her sack, the man smirked again. "Seems your woman is going to pay".

The dwarf looked at her and frowned until he saw her pull a grim looking staff from her sack. Three faces were engraved around the head of the staff, it was the most bizarre weapon he had ever seen. "Kiz'arja shall pay, though her payment shall be rather unpredictable", the khajiit chuckled as a sudden bolt shot from the staff.

Morrigan watched in suspense, she wondered what spell the creature had cast. The bandit let out a scream as his body was engulfed in a strange smoke. His body snapped and popped and suddenly a large cheese wheel fell to the ground.

"He... you... cheese?", Alistair scratched the back of his head.

The other bandits ran away, screaming how they did not want to become cheese as well. Kiz'arja and Galum burst into a fit of laughter and Alistair picked up the cheesewheel. It was really cheese by the smell of it.

Kiz'arja lead the way into the village and the others followed, Alistair still clutching the cheesewheel and Morrigan wondering what strange magic the cat had just used.


	10. Of Cheese, Redheads and A Sten

The village of Lothering was filled with run down homes and tents. The smell of dirt surrounded Kiz'arja as she looked around, she could see the famished looks on children and the unclean clothing. As Galum flirted his beard away with the witch, Kiz'arja took Alistair by the hand and pulled him to the side. The warrior looked at the khajiit with a sad expression. He was trying to hold himself together, to do his duty as a grey warden.

Kiz'arja watched as two children ran passed them, laughing away despite all the sorrow coming their way. "This one can smell your tears", she raised her hand up and wiped the water from under his eyes.

"I'm going to be fine Kiz'arja, please don't worry for me", the warrior smiled as he peered into her violet eyes that gleemed under her mask.

"This one knows of loss, we can talk about it later. Come Kiz'arja wishes to feed the children", she guided Alistair into the tents.

Galum watched from a distance, he had grown up having everything he could want. He had avoided the poverty areas. Watching how his kitten walked admist the refugees, handing the children food from her magic sack made him question how he could have been so arrogant. The witch sighed and they walked into the village, Galum enjoying the view.

In the center of the village, the group were stopped by a man in heavy plated armour. He held up his arm and studied Morrigan and Kiz'arja. "Hold there, the village is full. There are no more spaces to set up camp nor room in the inn. If I were you friends, I would be on your way", the templar gulped nervously under the piercing gaze of violet.

"Calm your metal arse boy, we are just here for information then we are on our way. Who would be the best person to speak to", Galum stepped in front, a stern look on his face.

The templar flustered under his helmet, "Th-the revered mother in the chantry or the innkeeper... Sir".

"That's a good boy", Galum chuckled and headed over to the chantry.

The chantry was nothing like any of the temples to the divines. Kiz'arja found it more humble, yet it was familiar. The sounds of prayers and distant song. She could also smell the scent of gold and silver, the people around her were dirty and starving and yet she could still smell the scent of riches. Galum noticed how tense she was and he looked up at her curiously.

"Is something wrong kitty?", he asked her with worry in his voice.

"This one can smell coin, yet these people are suffering. Someone is being greedy", Kiz'arja hissed under her mask.

Before the dwarf could comment, another templar approached them. Morrigan walked to Kiz'arja's side with a sly smile. "He senses the magic in us", the witch jested.

"Does it matter that he can sense the magic?", Kiz'arja tilted her head.

"I shall inform you about it later. Tis most amusing, how about I show you", the witch smiled, a playful glint was in her eyes.

She turned to the templar who was speaking with both Galum and Alistair and coughed. The templar glared over at her, believing she was a warden as well. "Tell me templar, what would you do if you came across a dangerous mage?", the witch crossed her arms.

The templar studied her closely, then his eyes turned to the masked warden. He could sense a deep magic surrounding her and felt his throat dry up from his nervousness. "We would subdue the mage and try to have them returned to the circle. It would be difficult at this time as we are low in numbers... so as long as we don't find any dangerous mage everything will be well", the templar glanced between the two mages. He was getting on in his years and wouldn't want to try and face two mages, especially since they were grey wardens.

Morrigan smiled to herself as she turned back to Kiz'arja, "Mages are feared here, I do wish to see what other magic you can do at some point. Twas most amusing what you did to that bandit".

The group headed further into the chantry, to find the revered mother. Kiz'arja found the scent of coin even stronger as they entered a room at the back, her eyes narrowing in at the older woman.

"Ah how may I help you my children?", the mother asked them.

"Forgive the intruision mother, we would like to talk to you about something. We are grey wardens", Alistair spoke, his tone was polite.

Galum raised a brow at how the warrior, he was going to be teasing him later for this. "How can I help the grey wardens? Word has it that you betrayed the king at the battle", the woman questioned.

Alistair clenched his fists as he kept a calm face, "Forgive my boldness mother but it was Logain that betrayed us. Anyways we are hear to speak about the approaching darkspawn", the warden said.

"First, a offering would be most welcome. The people are suffering and surely you can spare some coin for the poor", the mother smiled.

Kiz'arja hissed and stepped forward, the revered mother holding her hand out for coin. The khajiit shook her head and shoved a familiar cheesewheel in her hands. "This one can only offer this cheese... it is very fresh". Galum and Alistair coughed back the laughter and disgust as the mother sniffed at it.

"Money would still be better, it would help those poor refugees...the children".

"Kiz'arja gave plenty of food to the children, and you smell of coin. We are here to discuss the blight", Kiz'arja hissed.

The older woman frowned before giving in a sigh and she nodded to Alistair to speak. "The darkspawn have overrun Ostagar, Lothering is close. You need to have your people move on before the blight hits. Most of the wardens died in the battle, we don't have time to spare here. You need to guide your people mother", the warrior pleaded.

"I see where you are coming from, however the Maker shall protect us. I think it is best if you finish your business and move along wardens", the mother frowned.

"But mother-", Galum held his hand up for Alistair to stop and shook his head.

"She will not listen, come on lets go".

Kiz'arja turned to the mother as they were leaving and hissed, "There is a place in the void for you".

The group headed over a bridge, looking around for the inn. Kiz'arja decided to stay outside, not in the mood to deal with crowded spaces. She ventured to the outskirts of the village, taking in the soft sound of distant mummers and the rustling of grass. She found herself crouching down to pick up a strange plant, it smelled strange and magic was laced within it. As the khajiit was about to pick it, she heard a strange language.

Turning, the khajiit saw a large man confinded in a small cage. She curiously walked over to him, she had thought nords and orcs were large but this man could be related to a giant. He spotted her and looked down at her, expecting her to make some strange comment. Instead the khajiit pulled her mask down, revealing her feline features to the giant. He looked at her carefully, both studying the other in silence. A rumble from his stomach broke the silence, causing Kiz'arja to smile slightly.

She reached into her sack and pulled out a small folded cloth with cookies inside. She unfolded the cloth and handed one of them to the giant. He curiously looked at it, the sweet scent was unlike anything he had smelled before. He still felt hesitant, in case it was poisoned. The khajiit sighed and ate one of hers to show him it was safe, the giant ate his and shock flashed in his eyes. His eyes glanced back at her cookies and then at her.

"Take them", she spoke softly as she handed him the cloth.

"Thank you", the giant had a soft voice, more gentle than Kiz'arja was expecting.

Kiz'arja watched as the large man ate away before pulling lockpicks from her sack and fiddling with his cage. The door swung open with a satisfying click and the giant looked down at her.

"This one is a grey warden, judging by your hands you are a capable warrior. Kiz'arja wishes you to join her and her companions to fight the blight", the khajiit shrugged.

"You are a strange creature and a woman, why should I follow you?", the giant tested her.

"Because this one opened your cage, she can fight better than most men", the giant looked at her thinking for a moment, "And she can give you more cookies". That was the breaking point for him. He nodded and looked down at her.

"What shall I call you, fuzzy one?", the giant frowned as the last cookie escaped his clutch to the ground.

"This one is called Kiz'arja, what shall she call you".

"I am Sten of the barisaad", Sten spoke.

Kiz'arja nodded and pulled her mask up as her companions came towards them. She spotted a redhead in the background, the khajiit looking her up and down carefully. Sten stepped in front of Kiz'arja, standing in a protective stance. The khajiit felt her heart beat faster for a moment and touched his arm softly. "They are Kiz'arjas companions Sten, it's alright", she turned to Galum who was eying the giant.

"Stone balls that is one big man", the dwarf coughed.

"That is the monster that murdered those poor farmers! How did he escape", the redhead squeaked as she hid behind Alistair.

Kiz'arja looked at Sten who nodded and she shrugged, "He knows how to kill. He is coming with us. Who is the redhead?", Kiz'arja asked.

Alistair looked at the giant nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. "This is Lelianna, she will also be joining us".

Galum wriggled his eyebrows at Kiz'arja, earning a small chuckle. The khajiit sighed and tugged at Stens sleeve, pulling him towards the group. "This is Sten".

With awkward greetings and a strange look from Morrigan, they headed out towards the highway. The soft footsteps of a large group causing Kiz'arja to be on high alter. Sten closely standing near Kiz'arja, a bond had been made for the pair.


	11. Pretty Idiots, Barkspawn And A Qunari Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiz'arja has a cute moment with Steeeeeeen

A short ways out from the kings highway, where the three grey wardens and their new compamions were headed, a group of men stepped out from the thrush. It was easy enough to tell that they were nothing more than villagers and farmers. Kiz'arja spotted the shinning of old daggers and pitchforks, she let out a sigh and conjured a dagger in her right hand. Sten noticed how the strange woman readied herself for battle and found himself missing his sword. He watched as she crouched down and faded into the thrush quietly, away from the men. As Galum lead the way towards the farmers, he studied them curiously, only just noting his kitten had vanished to somewhere.

One of the farmers, a man coming along in his years and the only one with a sword stepped forward. His aged his narrowing down at the dwarf, his face sunken from hunger and clothing ripped from poverty. "I heard what you lot said when you were in the inn, you are wardens", he clutched at his sword as Galum stepped closer.

"And what in the paragons assholes is it to you old man?", Galum crossed his arms over. Behind him, Alistair and Sten watched as other men began to surround them.

"Maker forgive us, but we don't care if you lot killed the king or not- but there is a bounty on the head of any survivng grey warden", the old man drew his blade and charged at the warden.

The old man was surprisingly quick for his age, and the way he lunged showed he once was a warrior of some sort. Unfortunately for him, the wardens had a highly trained assassin. Kiz'arja leaped out of the thrush, magic dagger plunging into the old mans leg and claws shredding his throat. As the old man fell down, his blood splurting from his throat; the others attacked. Galum let out a cheer as he swung his blade at the young bloods.

Morrigan sneered at the men and would send small flames to their feet as if to get them to dance. Alistair found himself facing four farmers, he felt unsure on fighting these men. His hesitation allowing one of the younger of the men to prod the warrior with a pitchfork. The warden let out a pained yelp and thrust his shield against the young man. The farmer stumbled backwards and into Stens side. The qunari glared down at the pest and snapped his neck. Lelianna was the only one not willing to fight, perhaps it was that she was stilled dressed in the robes of a chantry sister and bore no weapon.

After some time, the seemingly endless waves of farmers to stop. Even Galum was panting for breath, whilst Kiz'arja sighed and leaned against Sten. The sister kneeled down and said a prayer for the fallen men.

"-Maker welcome you at his side", the redhead smiled sadly. Kiz'arja kneeled besides her and studied the dead men.

"Kiz'arja wonders why the redhead speaks a prayer for them?", the khajiit tilted her head.

"They were desperate, they felt like this was a last resort. I understand that they attacked us but was there no peaceful way to solve this?", the sister turned to the assassin.

"This one has seen men do much worse in the name of desperation. She has also killed men for less, in times like these desperation would have driven them to much worse. Kiz'arja once killed a group of stormcloak soldiers, they were desperate and a village much like this one was ruled by the enemy. They killed the men, took the women, even young girls. When they ran out, they attacked travelling caravans for food", Kiz'arja frowned and looked over at the sister. "Kiz'arja never makes the same mistake again. Khajiit learns from these things, you should to".

With that the khajiit had walked away, leaving Lelianna to ponder what the creature had been through. "Come on ladies, kitty, giant and pretty idiot. The further away we get from here the better", Galum called out as he headed towards the bridge.

"Did he just call me a idiot? Hey! That hurt my feelings", the warden pouted as he chased after the dwarf.

"At least he is pretty", Kiz'arja chuckled quietly to Sten. The qunari let out a small grunt.

Just as the group headed along the highway, a yell for help caused them to pick up pace. Two dwarven men were being attacked by a small group of darkspawn. Once more they rushed into battle, Alistair fighting harder than before, his rage for the darkspawn pouring out and his pitchforked wound aching his side.

The fight was over rather quickly, and the elder of the dwarven men approached. They learned their names were Bodahn and his son was named Sandal. Though the boy was a little peculiar, Kiz'arja found herself thinking of a certain jester. With a quick farewell they made their long journey across the highway. Somewhere along the way they ran into the mabari that Galum had helped back at Ostagar.

It was the late hours of night when they finally called a stop. Deep in a woodland, where a natural clearing laid they collapsed. The clearing was large, sheltered between a mountain and woodland. A small river made for plenty of water and it was hidden enough they would not be so easily discovered. Galum decided for the time being, this would be the base for their operation.

Whilst in Lothering, Alistair and Galum had traded some of their spare gear for tents but there wasn't enough for everyone. As Kiz'arja made a fire and Sten tore at branches for traps, the witch set up her own small camp at the edge of the clearing. "Say kitten, you wouldn't have any spare bedrolls, furs or tents in that pit you call a sack?", Galum asked her with a joking tone.

The khajiit stopped setting up the fire and reached into her sack. She pulled out several pelts of wolf and bear. The dwarf gaped at the insane amount. "Kiz'arja has many furs, she has two tents though", the khajiit pulled two tents from her sack.

The oddity of it all was difficult for most to understand, how she could fit so much in something so small. "How exactly does your sack work Kiz'arja?", Lelianna asked.

"Truth be telling, this one was taught a spell from a daedric prince. The sack is a dimensional gate into a small piece of Oblivion that allows her to store whatever she needs", the khajiit shrugged.

"And a daedric prince is? And on that matter what is Oblivion and a dimensional gate?", Alistair scratched his head confused.

Kiz'arja chuckled and finished lighting the fire. "In ways for the pretty idiot to understand, a daedric prince is a god of some sort. Not a divine, nor like the dread father. Oblivion is the realms of those princes and the daedra. Kiz'arja guesses your demons are like daedra. And dimensional gates are portals of a sort".

Alistair nodded, pretending to understand and turning to Galum in hopes that he understood. The dwarf shrugged and turned back to sorting the furs. "It sounds like you would have many stories to tell. Are you a bard?", the sister asked.

"Kiz'arja is a bard, though she cannot sing. She once knew a smart blue khajiit that could sing. She enjoyed his song of dragon pies", the khajiit smiled sadly to herself.

Lelianna understood that she didn't want to talk more by the tone of her voice, though she was intruiged about singing blue khajiits and dragon pies.

After another hour of setting up camp, everyone sat down near the fire. Sten had returned with several rabbits, which Alistair turned into a weird grey looking stew. Kiz'arja was too exhausted to cook so she had to endure the bitter tasting stew. She healed up Alistairs wounds and even gave Lelianna a bow, arrows and a spare set of daggers. She sat by the fire, messing around with some spare furs and leathers, using her magic to meld them together and her dagger to shape it. After handing the redhead a rather impressive make shift armour, she turned to the large hound.

"The dog has no name", Kiz'arja frowned, "This one thinks we should name it", she sighed.

Galum scratched his beard, trying to think of a name. "Rabbit?", Lelianna suggested, earning a grunt from the dwarf.

"Barkspawn?", Alistair voiced his silly thought.

"Beats rabbit and I can't think of a name".

The mabari tilted it's head at the name before letting out an amused bark. The group began to head to their sleeping areas of choice. Alistair and Galum opted for their own tents, Lelianna took the third. The largest of the four tents was good enough for Sten, leaving the khajiit to either bed herself on furs or share with one of her companions.

So once they all slept, she got from the fire, Morrigan taking over for watch. Kiz'arja tried Galum first, since he was small she would have space. It only took ten minutes of snoring, belching and passing gas for the khajiit to leap out of the tent. She was growing more tired and tried for Alistairs but found him to move too much. Heading to the redheads, Kiz'arja hopes she would finally get some sleep.

All seemed well for a hour or so until she woke up Lelianna playing with her tail. The khajiit hissed and stormed out. Her tail was precious to her, not a plaything. The witch watched in a distance with a smirk, she was most amused by this.

Finally, Kiz'arja went over to Sten. She worried he was too large and she would have no space to sleep but the poor khajiit was exhausted. Sten opened his eyes slightly as the khajiit squeezed into a corner. The qunari let out a tired sigh and in one swift move he grabbed her and pulled her on top. Kiz'arja was stunned by this act but too tired to complain. And so sleep finally came to Kiz'arja, as she curled up on the qunaris chest. His steady heartbeat was a soft song, humming her to sleep. For the first time in a long time, Kiz'arja let her walls down just a little and slept in comfort.

All the while, Morrigan observed the odd pair with an amused smile and barkspawn curled to the witches side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you to everyone that has continued to read. I am truly enjoying writing this and it means alot to me that I am having such wonderful support. So things are finally on the way! Next chapter.... the true journey begins... and Sten cuteness!!


	12. Should I continue

Heya peeps, so it's been a while since I updated I know. As the title says, I'm curious if I should actually continue with this. Let me know if you like to read more or not


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